


Five Times Sherlock and John Watched Porn Together (And One Time They Didn't Need To)

by cypress_tree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn Watching, even my porn has fluff in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-10 23:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypress_tree/pseuds/cypress_tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Just what it says on the tin, guys. Written for <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19351.html?thread=117121175">this prompt</a> on the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Sherlock and John Watched Porn Together (And One Time They Didn't Need To)

**Author's Note:**

> [also available translated into Korean](http://blog.naver.com/comberbitch/30156195575)   
>  [and Russian!](http://ficbook.net/readfic/2020461)

**  
One: Glances  
**

  
It started on a totally innocuous weekday.  John had come home to find Sherlock sitting on the sofa, notebook at his side,  frowning disgustedly at John's laptop while loud female moans drifted from the speakers.  
  
"Sherlock.  What.  The hell.  Are you doing?" John shut the door as quickly as he could and stood at the side of the sofa to find that it was as he suspected: Sherlock was watching porn.  
  
Sherlock looked up from his notebook and turned to him.  "I'm watching pornography, John.  Surely you're familiar with the practice."  
  
"Well yes, I can see that," said John.  "But for Christ's sake, why on my laptop, why in the middle of the day, and why in our sitting room?  Go to your goddamned bedroom!"  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.  "I'm not getting off on it, John.  I'm doing research."  
  
John was still staring at Sherlock, slack-jawed, and very pointedly not looking at the computer screen.  "Research?" he asked.  "And pray tell, how is this possibly relevant to a case?"  
  
Sherlock waved a dismissive hand in his direction.  "Could you please not speak?  It's really interfering with my concentration." He scribbled something in his notebook.  "And feel free to sit down if your erection is too uncomfortable."  
  
John hadn't thought his jaw could drop any lower, but he realized right then that he was wrong.  He felt his cheeks heat.  He suddenly noticed that the noises coming from the laptop plus the fact that it was Sherlock bloody Holmes sitting there doing something that involved sex was definitely having some sort of an effect on him.  The fact that Sherlock had noticed alone just exacerbated his problem.  He shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortably.  
  
"Seriously, John.  If you need to masturbate you can do so.  I won't mind."  
  
John barked out a disbelieving laugh.  "I am not tossing off in front of my flatmate!"  
  
"I said I don't mind.  I'm doing research, so I won't even be paying attention.  Quite frankly, I don't care what you do or don't do, so long as you stop standing there in shock.  Please do get over it."  
  
John's eyes moved from Sherlock to the laptop screen, and back to Sherlock.  Sherlock was still watching the video, making a slightly disgusted facial expression when the camera focused on an up-close shot of thrusting genitalia.  He made another note in his notebook.  
  
John looked back at the video.   Aware that Sherlock wasn't looking at him, he cupped himself through his trousers and stroked once, discreetly.  When Sherlock didn't show any signs of having seen, he stroked himself again.  
  
"Sit down, John."  
  
"Fuck it," John muttered.  He sat down next to Sherlock, carefully making sure their legs weren't touching.  Looking over, he was slightly surprised to note that Sherlock's face was still and expressionless.   Finally convinced that Sherlock wasn't paying attention to him, he unbuttoned his trousers and slipped a hand inside, his eyelids fluttering shut.  His initial embarrassment about tossing off next to Sherlock had dissipated, giving way to the slight thrill of doing something he probably shouldn't.  He looked at Sherlock again before thinking that maybe it was a bit creepy to be doing so.  He turned his attention back to the computer screen.  
  
The video starred a muscular blonde man in a suit who was enthusiastically fucking a redheaded woman who was clearly playing the part of his secretary.  She was overacting just a bit, but John didn't mind.  He stroked himself slowly, trying to concentrate on the video and not on the fact that Sherlock was sitting right next to him.  When he got irritated at the uncomfortable angle of his wrist, he pulled himself out of his trousers.  He heard Sherlock's breath hitch, which he tried to cover by clearing his throat.  Sherlock scribbled something in his notebook and shifted so that his legs were folded up in front of him.  He tilted away from John.  
  
John bit his lip.  Despite the overacting, he was more aroused than he cared to admit, though he couldn't say for sure that it was solely because of the video.  He peeked over at Sherlock to find that he had his left arm wrapped around his legs, his face turned almost as far away from John as possible.  He was scrawling notes furiously.  
  
John swallowed and looked back at the video.  It was hard to concentrate with Sherlock right next to him.  He closed his eyes and tried to focus on just the sound of the woman's moaning.  He was distracted again when Sherlock shifted position.  He opened his eyes just in time to see Sherlock look away from him, his legs unfolded again, and his arm positioned awkwardly across his lap.  John realized then that his flatmate was trying desperately to hide an erection.  
  
Looking back at the video, John suddenly found that he needed to speed up his pace.  Sherlock wasn't even looking at the computer screen anymore.  Keeping one arm over his lap, he scrawled so hard in his notebook that the tip of his pencil snapped.  He cursed under his breath and his eyes fluttered closed in a grimace.  
  
John found himself more aroused by the fact that Sherlock was aroused than by the actual porn.  He tried to hide it by staring intently at the computer screen.  His fist moved in quick jerks.  He tried to think about what was happening onscreen—what it would feel like if he were the actor, and the redhead's hand were on his cock.  He thought about long, pale fingers.  Fingers that were gentle and elegant.  Fingers that could hold a violin bow.    
  
"Fuck," he swore.  He was right on the edge...just a bit more.  
  
He looked to his side.  Sherlock was almost doubled over, his elbow resting on the arm of the sofa, his hand tangled in his hair.  He was taking long, strained breaths through his mouth.  One arm was still covering his lap.  He moved it discreetly and purposefully, so that it brushed over his erection.  He let out a soft "oh."  
  
"Fuck—" John came onto his button-down work shirt.  He kept stroking himself through his orgasm, aware of Sherlock's wide-eyed stare.  When he stilled, Sherlock curled his legs back up onto the sofa and feigned nonchalance.  
  
"Satisfied?" he asked, voice slightly unsteady.  
  
John nodded and forced himself to grin.  "Yes."  He looked at Sherlock.  "Do you...I mean are you going to..." he waved one hand in the direction of Sherlock's trousers.  
  
Sherlock turned away and gathered up his things.  "Don't be ridiculous, John."  
  
John raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything.  Sherlock stood up, grimacing a bit.  He walked awkwardly through the kitchen and shut himself into his room.  John rolled his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

  
  
** Two: Together **

  
The next night started much like the one before, but with less questioning.  John came down from his room to find Sherlock on the sofa again, another porn video playing, with his notebook at his side.  He had opted to write with a pen this time.  
  
John stood by the side of the sofa.  "Again?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Still collecting data," Sherlock muttered.  
  
John snorted, but when he noticed Sherlock looking at him with a questioning expression, he sat down next to him.     
  
"I hope I don't have to talk you into it this time," said Sherlock.  
  
John laughed, nervously.  "I'm not wanking, Sherlock.  I have better things to do than to sit here and wank next to you on the sofa."  
  
Sherlock looked at him coolly.  "Why did you bother sitting down, then?" he asked.  
  
John found that he didn't have an answer to that.  He looked back at the computer screen and thought about how weak his protest had sounded.  
  
"Do you have any requests?" asked Sherlock as the video ended.  
  
"Requests?"  
  
"Yes.  Is there any sex act that you find particularly arousing, or perhaps an actor you enjoy or a physical trait that you think is attractive?"  
  
John frowned, noticing that Sherlock had his pen held at the ready.  "Um.  This is strictly off the record, yeah?"  
  
Sherlock put the pen down.  "Of course." He sat still in wait.  
  
John sighed.  "I can't believe I'm going along with this, but um...well I do tend to like people with dark hair..." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John's use of the word "people." "And...I don't know, how about something involving blow jobs?"  
  
Sherlock turned to the laptop and easily found an entire section devoted to oral sex.  He clicked on one that showed a thumbnail image in which both actor and actress had dark hair.  The video started to play, and he leaned back on the sofa, pen in one hand.  
  
"Still can't believe I'm doing this," John muttered, half-heartedly.  He looked over at Sherlock, whose attention was focused on the screen.  He was chewing absentmindedly at two fingertips.  John watched, transfixed.  When Sherlock turned to look at him, he swallowed, thickly, and turned back to the video.  
  
It had been longer than he cared to admit since he'd had a blow job, and he was more turned on by the video than he probably should have been.  He opened his trousers and closed his eyes, listening to the obscene sucking sounds that were coming from the speakers.  His breaths became shorter as he gave short, strong tugs to his cock.  
  
He looked at Sherlock again to find that his facial expression had become strained.  His right hand was gripping his pen, tightly.  His left was curled into a fist on his thigh, knuckles white.  His eyes were unfocused—he was facing the screen, but he wasn't looking at it.  He looked at John just as John looked away.  They didn't meet each other's eyes.  
  
"I thought you weren't into this?" asked John.  
  
Sherlock shook his head.  "I'm not."  
  
"You look a little...turned on."  
  
Sherlock bit his lip.  "The video...may be having more of an effect on me that I had anticipated."  
  
John wasn't sure if he believed that, but he didn't say anything.  The next time he looked over at Sherlock, he saw that he was rubbing the heel of his hand over his crotch.  John's breath caught and he turned away, suppressing a moan.  When he looked back, Sherlock had unbuttoned his trousers and taken his cock out.  John struggled not to look.  Not at Sherlock's practiced method of pleasuring himself, not at how hard he had become so quickly, not at the bead of precome that he smeared with his thumb.  When John realized that he was staring again, he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the video.  Somehow nothing could drown out Sherlock's rapid, ragged breathing.  
  
John looked over to find that Sherlock was watching him, head leaning back on the sofa, tilted at an angle.  He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes almost made it seem like he was in pain.  When their eyes met, John moaned Sherlock's name just above a whisper, and came into his hand.  Sherlock closed his eyes and followed in a matter of seconds.

  
** Three: Notes **

  
After the second night, it was hard to pretend that this was all an experiment.  Sherlock had even stopped taking notes.  They were ten minutes into another video when John noticed that the ever-present notebook was no longer by his side, and made the mistake of asking about it.  Sherlock glared at him mid-wank and paused the video to retrieve it.  When he didn't return after a few minutes, John began to wonder what had happened.  
  
"Sherlock?" he called.  He still had one hand on his half-hearted erection.  
  
Sherlock didn't respond, and John didn't hear him moving around.  Sighing in exasperation, he pushed play on the laptop, but found that he couldn't concentrate on the video.  After trying and failing to continue masturbating, he paused it again and shut the laptop closed with an irritated snap.  He buttoned his trousers and walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock poking at a piece of mould in a Petri dish on the counter.  
  
"What on earth are you doing?" he asked.  He quickly glanced down to see that Sherlock's erection had subsided.  
  
Sherlock looked at him as though he hadn't the slightest idea what John was so irritated about.  
  
"This specimen is very delicate.  If I don't mist it every few hours it will die."  
  
"I just saw you mist it half an hour ago!  We were supposed to be—" He paused, mid-sentence, realizing how strange it would sound to plead for Sherlock to come back and wank with him.  "I mean, I thought you had a different experiment that we were....working on tonight."  
  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and huffed, but didn't say anything.  
  
John rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, slamming the slider shut a little harder than he probably should have.  He grabbed his laptop and the bottle of lube that Sherlock had bought "for scientific purposes," and stalked upstairs angrily.  
  
When he found that he couldn't concentrate on the porn and was too irritated to get himself off, John gave up.  He rolled onto his stomach and gave a miserable groan into his pillow, then went back downstairs, the laptop and lube in his hands.  He sat on the sofa and called out to Sherlock.  
  
"I'm starting the video again.  You can either join me or not, and I don't care if you have your notebook with you." Sherlock didn't respond, so John continued.  "I can do it without you, but I'd really rather get off with you, Sherlock.  ...I mean—with you here.  With me." He cursed at his awkward wording, and looked toward the kitchen.  He was just about to give up hope when the slider opened, and Sherlock stepped out.  He had changed into his pyjamas and was wearing the blue dressing gown that John was rather fond of.  He eyed John, then sat down next to him on the sofa.  
  
"Alright then," said John.  He started the video.  
  
  
  
**Four:  Hands**

  
It was the fourth night in a row when John finally admitted to himself that not only was he enjoying this more than he had expected, but he was actually looking forward to it.  Part of him didn't know why it had taken him so long.    
  
Sherlock hadn't asked what type of video John would prefer this time, but had chosen something on his own involving a tall, dark-haired man who was being sucked by not one but two women. Again, John was only partially paying attention.  He was sitting closer than usual to Sherlock, and they were both stroking themselves at a steady pace.  John chuckled through a wave of arousal as a thought suddenly occurred to him.  He looked at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye and grinned.  
  
"That actor kind of looks like you," he said.  
  
Sherlock's eyes widened marginally.  He glanced at John, then back at the screen.  "Why, because he has dark hair and pale skin?  I fail to see the resemblance." He shifted in place, as if he was uncomfortable.  
  
"You don't see it?" asked John, still stroking himself.  He looked back at the screen.  "He has your height, your eye colour, even your cheekbones."  John swallowed, aware that his voice had become raspy.  He started taking stronger, faster tugs.  "His neck is long like yours, he has...big hands like you do...endless legs."    
  
"His legs aren't that long," husked Sherlock.  
  
"Yours are."  
  
"Endless?"  
  
"Infinite."  
  
The video was reaching its crescendo, but John was only half paying attention.  He kept stealing glances at Sherlock, and began to subconsciously match his rhythm.  He noticed vaguely that Sherlock wasn't looking at the video, but was turned to him.  
  
"I still don't see it," said Sherlock, his voice even deeper than usual and thick like smoke.  
  
"Sherlock, you're the most observant person I know, how can you not—"  
  
"I need you to explain it to me, John."  
  
John gave a short, low moan, realizing what Sherlock wanted.  He licked his lips and tightened his grip on his cock until it was almost painful.  He shuddered.  
  
"Your body...your bodies are similar.  He's got a bit more muscle to him, but I like yours better." Sherlock chuckled to himself. "You're both...you've both got the same hair texture, too.  Kind of curly, but not ringlet-curly.  Like the kind of curly that I—that a bloke could really grip in his hands."  Sherlock grunted.  He looked thoroughly debauched now, having slouched down the sofa and slipped his free hand into his shirt to fondle a nipple.  His breaths were coming short and fast.  He pressed his left knee into John's right.  John returned the pressure.  
  
"More," Sherlock said in a harsh whisper.  
  
"I'm finding it incredibly hard to think, Sherlock."  
  
"Please."  
  
John's rhythm sped up again at the pleading in Sherlock's voice.  He was close now.  He changed tactics.  
  
"There are things I don't like about him.  His fingers are short and stubby and yours...yours are long and elegant.  He doesn't have freckles on his neck and his lips don't dip in the middle.  His mouth is nothing like yours.  Yours is so fucking....sexy."  John groaned.  "Sherlock, you're so fucking gorgeous, you have no idea."  
  
Suddenly, Sherlock's free hand darted out to grip John's.  He held it tightly and whimpered as he came, cursing repeatedly under his breath and continuing to pump himself slowly until he was empty.  John had just enough time to look away and pretend he wasn't watching before he followed.  He didn't know why he bothered turning away.  At this point, the video was just there for background noise.  When they were both still again, Sherlock pulled his hand away.  He didn't explain, and he didn't apologize.  John pulled a tissue from the box and passed it to Sherlock.  He accepted it with a quiet "thank you." John knew that he was being thanked for more than just the tissue.

  
** Five:  Kiss **

  
There was a fifth night.  John was very glad that there was a fifth night.  He supposed he should feel embarrassed or awkward about the night before, but he couldn't stop thinking about it.  He could still feel Sherlock's grip on his hand.  He flexed it every now and then to get rid of the feeling, as the memory went straight to his cock.    
  
They hadn't done anything all day, it being a case-less Sunday.  The day had gone by almost painfully slowly, until about an hour after dinner, when Sherlock looked up from his Petri dish and asked "Are we watching anything tonight?"  
  
John looked at him.  "It's your research.  You tell me."  
  
Sherlock held his eyes for a moment, searched John's face, then nodded.  "We're watching something."  
  
Ten minutes later, they were sitting in their usual places on the sofa.  Sherlock placed the laptop on the coffee table and leaned forward to choose a video.  John openly stared at his flatmate behind his back.  Sherlock was wearing the blue dressing gown again.  It probably needed to be washed, as it smelled strongly of Sherlock and had a dried chemical stain by the elbow.  John studied the stretch of neck that was bared between Sherlock's hair and the neckline of his t-shirt.  When Sherlock turned his head, John could just make out the study pulse of his heart under the skin of his throat.  
  
By now, John had stopped bothering about personal space.  When Sherlock leaned back on the sofa, they were sitting close enough that their knees pressed together.  When the video started, John was still looking at Sherlock.  He knew that Sherlock could tell.  With reluctance, he turned away.  He opened his trousers and took a deep breath as he watched Sherlock do the same.  
  
John gaped just a bit when the video began, and he realized that Sherlock had put on gay porn.  He noticed Sherlock's hand beginning to move, and looked down at Sherlock's cock out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Gay porn?" he asked.  
  
Sherlock gave an affirmative hum from deep in his throat.  "Hope you don't mind," he said.  
  
John shook his head.  "No, I don't mind.  It's...it's fine."  
  
"I tried to pick something with actors that fit both of our preferences.  The dark-haired one for you.  The blonde for me."  
  
A small noise escaped John's throat as he thought about the implications there.  He stroked himself slowly.  It had been a long time since he was with a man, and he was suddenly thinking about everything he missed about it: the brush of stubble against his skin, running his hands down a flat expanse of chest.  
  
The actors onscreen were shirtless and kissing deeply.  The dark-haired one was pulling roughly at the waistband of the blonde's trousers.  He shucked them down in one swift movement, their tongues still tangled together.  John swallowed so loudly that Sherlock must have heard it.  He was watching the video, but couldn't see anything but himself and Sherlock.  Sherlock's tongue in his mouth.  Sherlock's hands on his skin.  Sherlock's fingers digging into his hips.  
  
John saw that Sherlock was repeatedly looking in his direction.  Onscreen, the dark-haired actor sank to his knees and took the blonde's cock into his mouth so slowly that it was agonizing to watch.  John tilted his head back to rest against the sofa and sucked in a deep breath.  His hands itched to grasp something.  He was close now, and Sherlock was looking at him again.  John kept his eyes on the video, but kept his attention focused on Sherlock.  Sherlock leaned closer to him.  
  
"John." His voice was husky with sex.  A shiver ran up John's spine.  "John," Sherlock repeated, softer, but more urgent.  
  
John turned to him.  Sherlock's eyes were downcast, watching as John's thumb ran over the head of his cock.  A small desperate noise escaped from John's throat.  Sherlock's hand sped up at the sound.  His eyes flickered up to John's face, and came to focus on John's mouth.  John realized for the first time that they were only centimeters away from each other.  Sherlock twisted his body towards him and hooked one ankle around his, tangling their legs together. John closed his eyes.  
  
"Fuck, Sherlock."  He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.  Sherlock's breath was hot, ghosting over his lips in small quick clouds.  John noticed distantly that the video had stopped.  He was right on the edge of orgasm.  He was just leaning in to crush their mouths together when Sherlock swore.  
  
"Shit!" He was coming, and reflexively jerked his head down and buried it in the crook of John's neck.  John's lips ended up kissing air.  Sherlock was moaning softly into his neck, and the feeling of his lips on John's skin was getting to be just a bit too much.  When Sherlock opened his mouth and pressed tongue and teeth to John's skin, John have an undignified yelp.  He realized too late that he had probably gotten come on Sherlock's dressing gown.  
  
They were both still for a moment, then John brushed his cheek against Sherlock's head.  Sherlock sat up and they stared at each other for a bit, looking flustered.  
  
Sherlock turned away first.  "Tomorrow," he said, shutting the laptop with a gentle snap.  He stood up and walked in the direction of his room.  One hand was clutched in the wet stain in his dressing gown.  When he reached his room, he shut the door behind him, and didn't come out for the rest of the night.

  
  
** One **

  
When John came home from his late shift the next day, it was already 9:00 at night.  Sherlock met him at the door and helped him take off his coat.  
  
John smiled. "Well this is a pleasant surprise.  What's the occasion?" he asked.  
  
Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder, then ran it down his arm and held firmly onto his wrist.  "I've been home alone all day."  
  
"Yes...but that's not unusual.  Did you not get out at all today?  You should really try to leave the flat, if only for a quick—"  
  
"Yes, yes, shut up, John." John rolled his eyes, but followed as Sherlock tugged him in the direction of the sofa.  
  
"Oh, are we continuing our film festival tonight?" he asked with a playful grin.  
  
Sherlock opened the ever-present laptop and entered the web address.  He didn't respond.  John sat back on the sofa and kicked off his shoes.  He stared at the stretch of Sherlock's back as he knelt in front of the coffee table.  
  
"You haven't washed your dressing gown, have you?" he asked, noting that the stains hadn't disappeared from the night before.  Sherlock didn't answer.  "Sherlock, you're going to have to wash it at some point." He tugged at the cloth by Sherlock's elbow.  "You've got a chemical stain right here.  And I...I did get come on it last night."  
  
"I know," said Sherlock, his voice neutral.  He took his hand off the trackpad of the laptop and stared at the screen, blankly.  
  
"Sherlock?"  
  
Sherlock shut the laptop.  For a split second, John was afraid he had said something wrong and that Sherlock was angry with him.  Then Sherlock turned around, surged forward and gripped John's chin, pulling him into a kiss.  John was stunned for only a moment before he opened his mouth in response and kissed back.  After giving a gentle nibble to John's lower lip, Sherlock pulled away.  
  
"I don't think we need the video, do you?" he asked in a rough drawl.  
  
John shook his head, still a bit taken aback.  Sherlock smirked at him and captured his mouth again.  He swiped his tongue across John's lower lip, then pulled away and stood up.  John sat back on the sofa and gripped at the sides of Sherlock's dressing gown to pull Sherlock onto his lap.  He tilted his head up to meet Sherlock's mouth, and slid his hands up and down Sherlock's back repeatedly.  Sherlock hummed appreciatively when they dipped lower and John pulled their hips closer together.  
  
"I'm glad we don't have to watch those videos anymore," said Sherlock, his hands making quick work of the buttons on John's shirt.  "It was getting rather tedious."  He pulled off the shirt and tossed it on the floor.  
  
John laughed, and caught his breath when Sherlock ran his fingers over a nipple.  "Tedious?" he asked.  "Weren't you enjoying that last one?"  
  
Sherlock grinned.  "That last one was an excellent idea." He kissed John and rocked his hips forward.  John gasped.  "I'm very clever, aren't I?" he asked.  
  
John nodded.  "Very, very clever.  But I already knew that about you." He took Sherlock's mouth again, giving him a kiss that left no doubts as to where the night was headed.  When they parted, they were both breathless.  Sherlock's eyes were shining.  
  
"Listen," said John.  "Could we maybe take this to a bed?  I'm beginning to feel bad for the sofa."  
  
Sherlock nodded and wordlessly pulled John in the direction of his room, stopping in the kitchen to press him against the fridge and grind against his proffered leg.  When John felt how hard Sherlock was through his trousers, all the blood in his body rushed downward.  He fumbled at Sherlock's dressing gown, pulling it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the floor.  He looked at Sherlock with hooded eyes and pulled at his t-shirt as he moved them toward the bedroom.  
  
Sherlock pressed himself against John to relish the feeling of skin-to-skin contact.  John gave a quiet, happy sigh, and they sank down onto the bed.  He ran his hands down Sherlock's back, gripping his arse to grind them together.  
  
"God, John." Sherlock gritted his teeth as he rocked into John's body.  His hand ran down John's chest and scratched gently at the bit of belly just above the waistband of his trousers.  When his fingers dipped lower, under the waistband, but not low enough, John cursed under his breath.  
  
"I certainly hope you're going to follow through on that promise, because if you keep teasing like that, you'll physically injure me."  
  
Sherlock scoffed.  "Medically impossible.  You should know.  You're a doctor."  His hand outlined John's cock in his trousers.    
  
John gasped.  "Vasocongestion," he said.  "Ever heard of it?"  
  
Sherlock grinned.  "Oh please, a bit of vasocongestion never caused anyone any permanent physical damage." John looked up at him, mildly alarmed as to where the conversation was headed.  "Not that I would want you to go through that," Sherlock continued.  John relaxed, but raised an eyebrow when Sherlock removed his hand from his trousers and sat up.  
  
"However," he said.  "If I'm correct in my deductions regarding your sex life, there is something else that you would prefer to my hand."  
  
"You're deducing my sex life now?" asked John.  "And what have you deduced that I want so badly?"  
  
Sherlock gave a devilish grin.  "Tell me again how sexy my mouth is."  
  
John couldn't stop the rather embarrassing moan that left his throat.  Sherlock shifted back to sit between John's legs and unbuttoned his trousers  slowly.  He licked at the trail of hair that led from John's navel to the top of his pants, then pulled them down and dropped pants and trousers over the side of the bed.  He took John's cock in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the head.  John suddenly remembered to breathe.  
  
"I don't hear you," said Sherlock, dipping his head low.  
  
John blinked.  "Don't hear...?"  
  
Sherlock smiled and stroked once.  "My mouth.  Is sexy.  Tell me."  
  
John swallowed hard.  "Your mouth is sexy," he slurred.  
  
Sherlock licked the precome from the tip of his cock, and John shuddered.  Sherlock backed away again.  
  
"You're going to have to do better than that," he drawled.  He pulled at John's cock lazily.  
  
"Goddamnit, Sherlock."  
  
Sherlock took his hand away to tease down John's legs instead.  John grunted in frustration.  
  
"Okay!" he groaned. "Your mouth is sexy.  Your mouth is the sexiest thing I've ever seen." Sherlock leaned down and took the tip of him into his mouth.  John continued.  "I can't even stand to look at it sometimes," he said.  "When we're out at dinner, or just sitting around the flat, or at a fucking crime scene...It distracts me.  You distract me."  Sherlock had taken him fully into his mouth and was giving strong sucks.  "Fuck, sometimes I can't even think when I look at you." John stared at Sherlock's head as it bobbed between his legs.  He bit his lip and groaned when he saw Sherlock unfasten his own trousers with one hand, and start to stroke himself in time.  
  
"Last...last case we had," John said, his words becoming more difficult to find, "The one with the emerald robbery...I was about to wank in the shower when you made us leave the flat, and—oh god." Sherlock gave a strong encouraging suck, then pulled off and licked down the length of John.  "I was half-hard when we left and my mind was only on one thing."  
  
Sherlock pulled off to look John in the eyes.  He was stroking himself in earnest.  His eyes were all pupil.  
  
"I can't tell you how many scenarios went through my mind that day," said John.  "And every one ended the same—with you sucking me off until...until I came down your throat."  
  
"Fuck," Sherlock swore.  He gave himself two strong strokes, then leaned down again to suck John back into his mouth.  When he noticed one of John's hands flexing by his side, he took it and placed it on his head.  John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair.  He smiled.  
  
"You're good at this," he said, thickly.  He was coming undone quickly.  Either Sherlock was not a virgin, or he had a ridiculous amount of theoretical knowledge.  
  
Sherlock gripped John's hip with one hand and scratched his nails into John's skin, running from hip to inner thigh.  
  
"Sherlock!  Oh god, I'm going to—fuck!" Sherlock hummed with pleasure, and the vibrations sent John over the edge.  He came into Sherlock's mouth, back arched, one hand still gripped tightly in Sherlock's hair.  Sherlock swallowed around him, cleaned him with his tongue, then released him with a soft, obscene plop.  
  
John took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.  He was silent for a moment, trying to catch his breath, then he opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, who was leaning on his elbows, lips shiny and red.  
  
"Where on earth did you learn to give a blow job?" he asked.  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.  " Don't be silly, John.  I did go to university."  
  
John gave a hearty laugh, then sat up and kissed Sherlock, his tongue tasting salt inside Sherlock's mouth.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked, cupping Sherlock's face in one hand.  " Feel free to ask for anything.  After that, you deserve it."  
  
Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed.  "Just—Just touch me."  
  
John kissed him again, deeply, and drew him closer.  He pulled at Sherlock's cock the way that he had seen Sherlock do himself while they watched porn on the sofa.    
  
"It's not going to take much," said Sherlock, his eyes sliding closed.  "I think I enjoy giving oral sex as much as you enjoy receiving it."  
  
John sucked a love bite into Sherlock's neck and shushed him gently.   He kissed the underside of Sherlock's jaw, the spot behind his ear, his temple.  Sherlock's eyebrows knit together.  
  
"John—faster."  
  
John sped up his pace, leaning up on one elbow to watch Sherlock's face.    
  
"You are gorgeous," he said.  "I wasn't just saying that."  Sherlock closed his eyes and smiled.  "A little bit vain, I think, but gorgeous."  
  
Sherlock chuckled.  "Well you aren't doing much to remedy that," he said, voice strained, and breaths coming quicker.  
  
John shook his head, moving down to rest his chin against Sherlock's chest.  "I wouldn't want to remedy that.  I wouldn't want to change a thing about you." He took a nipple into his mouth, and Sherlock sucked in a breath.  John looked up again to study Sherlock's face.  "You know your eyes tilt up a bit?" he asked.  "It's rather charming."  
  
Sherlock bit his lip and rocked into John's hand.  
  
"John—" he stuttered.  
  
"That's it, come on now," John licked a stripe over Sherlock's collarbone, then bit down gently.  
  
Sherlock came with a short cry.  He clutched John close to him and buried his nose in John's hair.  He pressed himself into John's body as if he could meld them together.  Afterward, they lay together in silence.  John ran his hand up and down Sherlock's arm.  After a moment, Sherlock gave a grunt of discontent and rolled them over so that he was on top of John.  He nuzzled his face into the crook of John's neck.  
  
"You like it there, don't you?" asked John.  He felt Sherlock smile against his skin.  "My neck certainly appreciates the attention."  
  
Sherlock pressed small kisses along John's neck and down to his shoulder.  He ran one hand lazily over John's chest and down his hip.  
  
John groaned.  "If you don't stop I'm going to want to go again, and I don't know if that's even physically possible right now."  
  
Sherlock stilled and pressed a kiss to John's shoulder before resting his head there.  
  
"So this research...What were you researching, exactly?"  
  
Sherlock ducked his head and mumbled something against John's shoulder.  John lifted his chin up with two fingers.  
  
"No, tell me," he said.  "This ought to be good."  
  
Sherlock frowned at him.  "You must know...In the beginning it was purely scientific."  
  
John nodded.  "Of course," he said, barely suppressing a smile.  
  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  "It was.  Sex is often a motivation for murder, John.  You've been on plenty of cases with me, you should know this by now.  Due to the heightened emotions and the potential for jealousy and deception and manipulation--"  
  
John gave a sharp slap to Sherlock's backside.  "Get to the point, Sherlock."  
  
Sherlock huffed.  "Well it started out as a study on the facial expressions of the actors.  Specifically the contractions of the facial muscles during orgasm."  He looked at John with an unsure expression on his face.  "But I found that once you were next to me...It was extraordinarily hard for me to concentrate."  
  
"Well I was extraordinarily hard sitting next to you," John quipped.  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered something involving the word "juvenile."  John smiled and mussed his hair.  

"So you were watching porn for scientific purposes, then you saw that I was...affected by it, and your logical conclusion was to tell me to have off in front of you?"  
  
Sherlock paused.  "It made sense at the time," he said.  John laughed.  
  
"Well I'd be glad to help you with any more sex-related research in the future.  In the name of science, of course."  
  
Sherlock leaned up to kiss him.   The kiss started chaste, then grew longer, turning slow and passionate.  By the end, John had lost his breath again.   
  
"I actually have a research question of my own," he said.  "What's your refractory period like?"  
  
Sherlock gave a tired "ugh" and rolled onto his side.  
  
"Slow down, John," he said.  "We have the whole rest of our lives." He took John's hand and pulled him closer so that they were spooning.  John smiled and held Sherlock tightly around the waist.  It wasn't long before he fell asleep peacefully, his nose in Sherlock's hair.  
  



End file.
